


Hit And Miss And Catch

by screamingatstars



Series: Sanders Sides Color Guard AU [2]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Marching Band, Gen, color guard AU, found the tag!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:40:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21677641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/screamingatstars/pseuds/screamingatstars
Summary: Virgil makes a mistake during the last run through of the day. He also manages to surprise himself.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, No Romantic Relationship(s)
Series: Sanders Sides Color Guard AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1550635
Kudos: 11





	Hit And Miss And Catch

**Author's Note:**

> gonna be honest, I’m a little bit salty that there isn’t a separate color guard tag  
> Hope you enjoy!

Virgil carefully matched his breathing to the beeping of the metronome. Four counts in, a seven-count hold, eight counts out. 

“Okay, people, let’s focus! Last run through, from the beginning all the way to the last set we know!” Called Mr. G from the front of the field. “Make it count!” 

Virgil tightened his grip on his flag as the drum major, Missy, raised her arms and called for set. He checked his footing, adjusted his grip, and sent a silent plea to whatever gods happened to exist to please, for the love of all that is gay and pure, let him not drop his freaking parallel. Around him, he could see the rest of the guard doing much the same.

Missy’s arms dropped, and as the entire marching band whirled to life, Virgil shifted into focus mode. 

Top cone ripple, flag to front, turn around and shift the hands, thumb flip-finger twirl into a pole toss, catch and pole hit, run to dot. Each movement flowed neatly into the next, the trumpets syncing with the tosses and catches briefly as the underpinning music kept its pace. He wasn’t looking for his next dot; his feet simply arrived there, and he just smiled and hit his choreo. Merge with woodwinds, finger twirl, regrab pole. Pop toss, catch and turn, hold for two, strip the flag, march to dot-

As he left the grid formation of woodwinds, his pole slipped from his grasp. Focus mode snapped back to reality, and before he could react to the mistake and grab his flag back, it fell, landing on the shoulder of an unsuspecting flutist. 

_ Crap!  _ He rushed for his pole, but ran smack into the poor flutist in his hurried panic, knocking them both out of alignment. Luckily, he didn’t seem hurt, and kept on marching, like he hadn’t even noticed the six-foot-long piece of metal that had just fallen directly into him, or its frantic owner.

Virgil scrambled to pick up his dropped flag, continuing his run to the next dot. The music stopped for no one, after all. His heart was pounding loud in his ears, even faster than it usually beat during guard. He had never hit anyone with a flag before. There was no way that someone hadn’t seen that.

He fumbled through the next couple tosses before settling back into the run, still a little shaken from the unexpected casualty. It was time for focus, now, anxiety could wait till later. At least the flutist seemed okay. It was all going to be okay. Spin, hold the plié, flourish, prep for impending and inevitable dropping of forty-five, face the front, throw forty-five-

The toss landed perfectly in his hands.

He almost forgot to keep himself moving and go on with the show. Heck, he barely remembered how to walk. He had caught the big forty-five! He swapped his hands and performed the last ripple, shell-shocked. Never once, in all the rehearsals, had he managed to catch that toss before. He had already resigned himself to dropping every time and humiliating himself in front of the entire school, but this time had somehow gone right.

When the band finally stopped playing, having reached the last drill set they knew, Virgil froze at the prep for the next toss, still reeling both from his unintended hit on the flutist and his even more unexpected victory. He didn’t even register the call for an early practice wrap up until the resounding cheer of the rest of the band brought him back to reality.

Coming out of his last set, he hurriedly rolled up his flag as he ran to the front sideline with his teammates. They all gathered around Mrs. M, the assistant band director, who stood on the conductor's platform as he waved for silence. Once the talking and random notes died down, she stepped down from the platform, and Mr. G took her place to address them.

“Okay, everyone, that was a solid last run of the day, good job, everyone.” Someone let out a loud whoop from the crowd of band kids, and then everyone cascaded into cheers and clapping.

“Y’all should be proud of yourselves,” Mr. G continued once the celebrating had quieted. “It wasn’t a perfect run, but I’m not looking for a perfect run. All I’m asking is that you do better today than you did yesterday, and as long as you’ve got that, I’m happy. Were there mistakes made today? Absolutely.” Virgil slumped a little, ducking his head. “But,” Mr. G went on, “I also saw some really amazing things out there, and all I can say is that I’m really excited for the game on Friday.” 

He took a breath and let it out, thinking back to how it had felt to catch his forty-five. The shock, and the pride, and the way it made his earlier mess up seem smaller in comparison. 

“Now go home, take a shower, cause y’all stink-“ Virgil couldn’t help but snicker along with everyone else. It was true and they knew it. “And make sure to do your homework, pass your classes. That’s all I got for you today, have fun!” 

Virgil joined in with the others, yelling and cheering as the band split, the different sections running to their spots on the sidelines to gather their things. As he knelt next to his flag bag and slid his pole in, a shadow fell across him. He looked up to see Logan, sweaty and disheveled, in a tank and baggy shorts, a far cry from his usual pristine neatness and neckties during the school day.

“I saw your catch during the final run,” Logan said, taking a seat on the curb next to Virgil’s things. “I believe that was your first time catching it, correct?” 

Virgil nodded, quickly turning back to his bag and zipping it shut before he looked back to his friend.

“Yep, it was. Blanked out right after it happened, but at least it didn’t smack me in the face or give me a concussion, right?”

Logan smiled. “You should be proud of yourself. Your efforts to improve have clearly been effective.” 

“Thanks, Lo.” Virgil grinned, moving to sit next to Logan on the curb. The door to the band hall would be bottlenecked anyway; they could sit and talk for a minute. “But please tell me nobody saw me hit that flute in the lines part.”

“Oh, we all saw that, Virgil. You were in between the first two lines, in clear view of the rest of the band.” Logan adjusted his glasses. “It was rather amusing.”

Virgil groaned, shoving his friend’s shoulder playfully. “Oh, come on, at least I didn’t kill the dude! Bet you wouldn’t be making fun of me if I had dropped a silk double on his head.”

“You’re right, I wouldn’t. Only if it was you that sustained a heavy concussion because of your inadequacy.” The twinkle in Logan’s eye told Virgil he was joking, and he laughed.

“Yeah, that’s definitely on the ‘It’ll Happen One Of These Days’ list.”

  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
